


Keep me from falling

by shiningdistractionwrites



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Gryffindor Liam, Hate Sex, Hogwarts AU, M/M, Pining, Pranks, Slytherin Zayn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningdistractionwrites/pseuds/shiningdistractionwrites
Summary: It's their seventh year at Hogwarts, and Liam and Zayn are selected as co-Head Boys, from Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively.It's unexpected, to say the least, and it really doesn't help that they can't agree on a single thing.(It also doesn't help that their Headmaster doesn't seem to care at all, that there's nothing quite like a good prank to relieve stress, that Liam looks good in a Quidditch uniform, or that they may or may not have slept together once in sixth year.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwanttowriteyouafic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanttowriteyouafic/gifts).



> Thank you so much for the prompts!! Writing this was equally intimidating and such an honour. I had a ton of fun, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> To my beta, [lostboysoflondon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lostboysoflondon/pseuds/lostboysoflondon), thank you for the support and all your help :)

The Great Hall is an oasis in the middle of Hogwarts at night, a glowing center of heat and light amidst the much colder, darker hallways of the castle.

It’s filled with laughter as Zayn steps inside with Harry, Hogwarts students standing and sitting around the four long tables in a sea of black robes dotted with brightly coloured ties. The Hall looks the same as always, but it feels different to Zayn, knowing it’s the last time he’ll ever see it like this, lit by the multitude of golden candles floating above his head. Their warmth emanates throughout the hall, welcoming him.

He and Harry had skipped once in fifth year, just because they could, but they’d ended up missing it a lot more than they’d anticipated; the year just didn't seem right without attending. It’s home.

Automatically, he and Harry head to the left towards the Slytherin table. They’re quickly absorbed into the muddle of his housemates, and Zayn spends the next few minutes in a grinning exchange of greetings.

Soon enough, the command to _sit_ flows along the tables, and Headmaster Cowell is stepping forward to the wooden podium at the end of the Hall. He raises his goblet theatrically in a toast. “It is truly a joy to see your smiling faces here this evening, and to welcome you back to Hogwarts,” he begins. Behind him, the teachers sit at their own table, gazing out at the students with fondness.

Cowell carries on talking. Harry nudges Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn tries to muffle a snort as his best friend waves his hands grandly below the table, mocking Cowell’s flourishes with the sleeves of his long robes. As much as he loves the majority of his teachers, it’s hard to take Cowell seriously when he’s so obviously focused on the dramatics. Around them, other Slytherins giggle discreetly at Harry’s joke as well.

“Now,” Cowell continues, and Zayn tunes back in. “I know you’re all impatient to meet your new first years, and to find out who will be selected as your two Heads of House this year, so let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Their Headmaster turns to his left and taps his wand into the thin air above a table sitting next to his podium. Glittering silver tendrils swirl from the end of his wand, flowing into a shape that steadily coalesces. Seconds later, a large and intricate glass chalice touched with silver details is resting on the table.

The excited murmuring in the Hall rises a notch. Zayn glances around at the students seated at his table; Perrie and Galen are the two seventh year Prefects, but being a Prefect is no guarantee. Besides, there are only two Heads, so it’s possible neither of them will be Slytherin.

Cowell looks out towards the audience of students, obviously satisfied with the way the anticipation he's created hangs taut in the air. Zayn tries not to roll his eyes as Cowell lifts an arm, again dramatically pushing back the navy sleeves of his silk robes before diving a hand into the chalice.

He rummages around for what seems to be an excessive amount of time before lifting a triumphant hand. Clutched in his fist is a slim piece of parchment that sheds a faint dusting of silver as it’s lifted into the air. Carefully, he unfolds it and runs his eyes silently over the name before lifting his gaze to the Hall in front of him.

“Our first Head of House chosen by the Cup is,” he pauses, “Zayn Malik!”

A huge roar goes up from the Slytherin table along with more subdued but nevertheless loud cheers from the other tables.

The noise of the Great Hall fades away as Zayn hears his own name. It’s so unexpected that it feels surreal. Harry, next to him, is smiling madly and gripping him in a tight hug. He yells something congratulatory but it's lost in the roar of the Hall. 

The Slytherins at his table clap and talk excitedly to him but he feels distant from it all. Simon’s voice is still ringing in his head, echoing his name over and over. He’s handed around like a trophy, moving from person to person to shake hands and be slapped on the back without absorbing any of it. Perrie is clapping brightly, but Galen looks like he’s swallowed something sour and is trying to keep it down.  

Cowell has made his way back to the chalice, and silence falls again in anticipation of the second name being called. Again, he spends a while shuffling his hand around, before pulling out a second parchment.  

“And our second Head of House, from Gryffindor this time, is … Liam Payne!”

Instinctively, Zayn turns to the Gryffindor table. Liam isn’t hard to spot. He’s grinning, until he disappears from Zayn’s sight as his housemates engulf him like a tide, identical expressions of glee upon their faces.

Liam Payne. Loud and popular Gryffindor extraordinaire, member of the Quidditch team and definition of a jock. Zayn can barely look at him without flashing back to, to– _hot mouths desperately searching each other as a body presses firmly against his own, the friction of their grinding hips sending shivers through him as hands scrape along smooth skin, the both of them needing more, desperate for each other’s touch_.

Of all the students, Zayn will be spending the next year with – _Zayn, his name is gasped, followed by a heated press of lips along his neck, down his chest –_ Liam, who on top of being a jock is by far one of the most uptight students at Hogwarts, and definitely a Gryffindor with all the Gryffindor qualities that Zayn has no interest in spending any time around. He wants to hope that Liam will spend so much time playing Quidditch, getting bowled over by quaffles on his broomstick that he won’t have much time to work with Zayn, but it’s probably too much to ask for.  

Eventually, Zayn gets to sit again as the Hall calms down from the excitement, although his housemates still mouth words of encouragement every time he meets someone’s eyes, but his mind keeps going back to Liam.  

The rest of the Welcoming Feast passes in a blur. Soon, the sorting is finished, and Slytherin has welcomed the newest boys and girls to their table.

“D’you think they’re getting smaller?” comes Harry’s low voice beneath all the noises of the Hall as they glance over at the group of small, timid first years with wide eyes behind the doors.

“Nah, s’probably just that you sprouted up like a tree after drinking that height potion that one time,” Zayn jokes weakly, thankful for Harry’s attempts to make everything seem more normal. It’s hard to focus when his mind is running down all the different paths that the year could take.

Zayn hardly tastes the dinner, his mind jumping to anything he can remember about the Heads Girls of previous years, because he has no idea what he’s in for. Nira and Rose had been chosen from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, so he hadn’t known them very well. Now that he considers it, he’s not sure what they’d even _done_ aside from organizing some charity events and dances _._ Headmaster Cowell will probably (hopefully) discuss it in their meeting. On the bright side, he doubts Liam will know much either, so at least they’ll be on even footing 

*

Zayn meets Liam in the second floor corridor outside the Headmaster’s office, having received a note with instructions after the feast. As soon as they’re standing together in front of the gargoyle that guards the entrance, it slides open, revealing a circular grey stairwell. He’s never had the chance to enter the Headmaster’s office, but he and Liam step inside together. Beneath them, the steps beneath them begin to move with a jerk, grinding upwards.

Zayn hasn’t paid much attention to Liam over the past year, and isn’t friends with many of the Gryffindors. But now he has the chance to see him up close. Being this near him again feels like an assault; Zayn hadn’t realized he’d feel this affected, which makes everything that much more difficult.

He’s hit by all the details he couldn’t notice from across rooms, like the ways in which Liam looks older. His jawline is stronger, and there’s a heavier dusting of golden stubble along it. Most of all, it’s Liam’s scent that brings the strongest rush of emotions into Zayn’s chest, creating an unexpectedly strong pull towards him.

Zayn tries to push the thoughts away. They’re irrelevant; they’re only going to be doing whatever the hell kind of paperwork a Head does, and Liam will get on his nerves as soon as he opens his mouth, Zayn’s sure.

Neither of them breaks the silence as they ride upwards, and Zayn knows he isn’t imagining the tension between them as they studiously ignore each other.  

The staircase grinds to a halt in front of a solid wooden door that opens in front of them. Zayn glances briefly at Liam, whose jaw is clenched, before they step out into Cowell’s office. This Liam is a different one than the boy who could politely make an effortless conversation with anyone, from a five-year-old to an elderly muggle. It’s unexpected, given that they haven't had a conversation since that night, but at least Zayn isn’t the only one who still hasn’t forgotten.

Their Headmaster sits behind a weathered desk in the middle of the room, writing something on a piece of parchment in front of him. There are two chairs in front of the desk, and Zayn and Liam each take one. Silently, they sit as Cowell continues to write for another minute, not even glancing up at them. The quiet scratching of his quill is the only sound in the room.

How long does Cowell have to sit there ignoring them?  

Zayn takes in the room as the minutes pass in silence, all the details that seem at odds with the rest of the castle. The décor crosses the line of gaudiness, everything slightly too slick for a place so ancient. His feet are sunk into a soft chocolate carpet that is visibly new, and some of the books lining the shelves seem out of place with the ancient portraits that still adorn the darker walls. The dim lighting from the flickering scones and other candles floating about the room make it hard to see exactly what else Cowell may have added, but the clean scent that he breathes in as they sit there somehow smells wrong.

Liam’s mounting frustration is recognizable by increasing tempo of his bouncing knee. Zayn feels the same irritation, but he sits back into the chair and forces himself to relax.  

A few more tedious minutes pass, and finally, Cowell drops his quill back into the inkwell. He sits back in his chair, looking satisfied. “Liam, Zayn, welcome. I want to congratulate you on this wonderful achievement. Head of House is a huge responsibility, and I must admit that it came as a complete surprise that you two were chosen. But - ” he holds up a finger in emphasis, “I think that you’ll do very well together. I can see that you get along quite well.”

Zayn can’t help but wince just a bit at the last statement. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Liam flinch slightly as well, but he remains focused on Cowell. Their Headmaster continues, oblivious as usual, explaining that their main commitment is to meet the Prefects as a group once per week.

“So, how do you boys feel about this new role?” he finally asks, folding his hands together on the desk and leaning forward with interest.

“We’re extremely excited, sir,” Liam begins earnestly. “It’s an amazing opportunity, and we’re both looking forward to it.”

The perfect words always come so naturally to Liam, slipping out of his mouth like a golden river. Zayn resists the urge to scowl. The worst part is that he actually means them, he isn't just faking sincerity. It makes Zayn want to disagree just for the sake of it, to rebel against the ways Liam plays by all the rules. So when Cowell turns to him expectantly, that's what he does.

“I’m not sure if I feel fully ready, if I’m being honest,” Zayn says. “I feel like we have loads of learning to do.”

Liam shoots a covert frown at Zayn, irritation gleaming in his eyes.  

Surprisingly, Cowell doesn’t seem disappointed by Zayn’s comment. Instead, a fleeting expression that Zayn can’t place - satisfaction?- twists his mouth. That can’t be right. It’s gone quickly enough though, and Cowell is smiling paternally at the both of them. “Not to worry, I’m sure you’ll do just fine. I have faith in you, and also the Cup’s ability to make the right choice.” He chuckles at his own joke. “Not to mention the Prefects who are there to help you with whatever you need.”

He stands, and Zayn and Liam rise automatically, glancing at each other in confusion. Are they done?

“Uh, is there anything else, sir?” Liam asks, but Cowell shakes his head, smiling.  

“No, I believe we’re done here boys, best of luck.” He reaches over his desk and shakes both their hands, before gesturing to the door that has opened silently behind them.

“What was that?” Liam asks as soon as they’re safely in the stairwell, descending in painstaking slowness. Zayn is the only person he could be speaking to, but Liam directs his words towards the empty staircase in front of them, refusing to look at him. “He hardly gave us any information. How are we supposed to begin? We’re meeting the Prefects, but to discuss _what?_ ”

Cowell has never been known as the most involved Headmaster, but one would think that he would have at least some interest in guiding them. But Merlin, Liam’s always so stressed. They’ll figure it out.

“He obviously thinks we’re competent enough,” Zayn says. “S’not like we follow a syllabus. We can probably ask the Prefects for some ideas and see what they’ve got.”

Liam blows out an irritated breath. “Of course - just shunt off all the work to the underlings, that’s how to do it right? You may not expect to be doing a lot of work, but I am. Come on Zayn. We’re utterly in the dark here. You even admitted it to Cowell.” Then, under his breath, he mutters, “Stupidly, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask, thanks babe,” Zayn says with a smirk. The condescending endearment slips out just to irk Liam, and it works, judging by the expression on his face. 

He really should resist the urge to be petty, but everything about Liam just provokes him. It’s kind of a thrill, seeing how easily he can get under Liam’s skin, and he knows he won’t be able to resist doing it again.

Besides, Zayn thinks, they’ve only spent twenty minutes together, most of it not even talking, and they’ve somehow already stumbled into an argument. It’s hard not to feel resentful at how obvious it is that Liam’s expecting to spend the year pulling the weight for both of them. Zayn would rather sleep on a bed of nails in the Slytherin dormitories than let Liam act as if he’s the only competent one around.

He’s about to spend the next year with this Gryffindor. Just envisioning the nagging and deprecation he’s about to be subjected to sparks an indignation that flares into determination. Fuck him.

He hadn’t been expecting to do anything less than his best as a Head - and he’s aware that it’s work, even as a first year the Prefects and Heads of House had been revered for their dedication and hard work - Hogwarts deserves it, and while he may not care about Liam, he does care about his school and the students in it.  

And who knows, if it turns into a competition about who can be the best Head of House, so much the better. Liam thinks he’s the perfect idol, a Gryffindor head boy to lead the whole school, Zayn is here to show him that Slytherins do it better.  

But that doesn’t mean he can’t be petty about it as he does. No one needs that amount of nauseating purity in their lives.  

In the hall, Zayn heads immediately to the right. Liam spares him a cold glance before turning left. He’s just as aware as Zayn that the shortest route to both their common rooms is the way Liam is heading, the opposite of Zayn’s current route. But he isn't about to spend a second more with Liam if he doesn’t have to; they’ll figure out their plans one way or another.  

Thankfully, the urge to kiss him again has been entirely subjugated by a desire to wipe the smugness and condescension off Liam’s face, and it disappeared even more easily than expected - all it took was for Liam to open his mouth for what was obviously a stupid infatuation on Zayn’s part to be smothered into nonexistence.  

Maybe he and Liam should just send each other notes, Zayn thinks as he finally arrives at a staircase that leads to the Slytherin common room. That should avoid any unnecessary time together.

*

Liam steps over the knee-high ledge of the Gryffindor common room, having barked out the first password of the year, _mulberry,_ with such force that the fat lady simply raised her eyebrows in exasperation and swung open without a word. Inside, he looks up to find three pairs of eyes directed at him.

Louis and Leigh-Anne are seated comfortably on the carpet, their backs to the roaring flames in the fireplace. Liam hadn’t been extremely close to either of them, but as the seventh-year Prefects, they’d come up to him at dinner and started talking. They both seem extremely dedicated, and he’s thankful for their experience.

Niall faces the two prefects, lounging against one of the many plush vermilion sofas that fill the cozy space. The bumblebee colours of his Hufflepuff tie stand out against the red theme of the room, but his presence has been a common sight for many years now; he never earns a second glance from any Gryffindors other than the first years, just as Liam’s presence is never questioned in the Hufflepuff common room.

The three are in the same positions as when Liam had left the common room to meet Cowell, and he rejoins them, taking the spot next to Niall where he’d been sitting earlier.

He can already feel some of his tension melting away, just being back amongst his friends, and away from Zayn, where he can think more clearly without those large eyes glaring at him. Liam’s frustration must still be evident though, because the inquisition begins before he’s barely sat down.

“So how’d it go?” Niall asks earnestly. “As bad as you expected?”

Liam barks out a laugh. “Yeah, y’could say that.”

“C’mon then, tell us what happened,” Niall urges him.

There’s something about Niall’s laid back demeanor that Liam is always thankful for in his best friend. It’s a testimony to exactly how easily Zayn is able to irk him, because he usually manages to ignore people who are acting like complete and utter pricks.

 _Zayn being an asshole happened_ he wants to reply, but if he starts on that he’ll probably never stop, and besides, he really doesn’t want to bring up the past like that, so Headmaster Cowell’s incompetence it is.

“Nothing whatsoever.” Liam lets out a frustrated sigh. “He just said he was happy that we’d been chosen, and shooed us out.” He’d been pretty nervous beforehand, wondering what was expected, what his role would entail. But he was just as in the dark as before.

“He didn’t tell you anything about what to expect?” Niall looks genuinely confused, although there is recognition in both Louis and Leigh-Anne’s faces.

“Aside from the basic logistics of when and where the Prefects meetings are, not really.”

“Yeah, Cowell’s a bit like that, honestly,” Louis says reassuringly. “He always gives a nice speech at the beginning of the year but he does shit else for us Prefects afterwards. At least it’s nice to not have him breathing over your shoulder the whole time though, I think I prefer it that way.”

Leigh-Anne looks pensive. “Didn’t they have the same problem last year? I don’t think Rose and Nira didn’t manage to get things sorted until a bit later on as well.”

“That’s true,” Louis nods. “They didn’t have a clue at the beginning, and they were too in love to spend any time figuring it out. Worked out well in the end, but a bit of a mess at the beginning to be honest, no one had any idea what to do.” 

“You’re right,” Leigh-Anne says. “The seventh years and the rest of the Prefects had to work really hard to carry their weight until they got everything sorted. I don’t think you and Zayn will have that problem though,” she laughs. “You barely know each other, right?” 

Liam simply nods. He may be sidestepping the topic of knowing Zayn just a bit, but given that he’d already lost his temper at Zayn within a few minutes, he doubts their relationship will be improving from there. _Lack of_ might be a problem, but that’s a different story.

He remembers the whispers and confusion around a half-planned event at the beginning of last year; the diplomatic term ‘miscommunication’ had been thrown around and first month back activities being cancelled last minute under the pretense that some sort of funding had fallen through. But everyone had known, particularly from the stressed looks on the faces of all the Prefects.

Nira and Rose had been too oblivious to care, acting as if someone had dumped a love potion into their water. They’d been extremely embarrassed afterwards, once they’d gotten around to taking up their roles, and finished the year extremely well. Liam has no idea how he and Zayn can compete with all the money that had been raised for the Society for the Protection and Care of Magical Creatures amongst other charities, not to mention the end of year ball.  

Regardless of what happens, he knows he won’t let a mess at the beginning of the year occur again. Hogwarts students don’t deserve that, even if it means he has to plan everything himself. Given everything, that possibility seems likely.

“And besides,” Louis says, “you have all the Prefects here to help. To delegate tasks to, and the like. It’s not as if you and Zayn are on your own, there are twenty-four of us, remember?”

And well, it’s meant to be reassuring but it doesn’t really help Liam’s peace of mind at all. Louis’ confidence had helped him relax somewhat, but the idea of having to organize tasks between twenty-four people seems a little daunting. Not to mention that many of the activities could involve the entire student population of Hogwarts, or how stressful it will be if his so-called partner is unwilling to agree on a single word he says.

“I just, I’ve never led anything like this before,” Liam admits.

“Just pretend it’s the Quidditch team,” Niall chimes in. “You’re not the captain, but you never have any problems bossing them around.”

“Especially when Mako’s not there,” Leigh-Anne adds, laughing as she echoes a familiar refrain amongst his Gryffindor team. “Niall’s right though, Liam. You’re always confident about the team. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“But with Quidditch I know what I’m doing,” Liam groans, leaning back into the plush of his seat. He knows they mean well, but the two of them have been Prefects since their fifth year. What if he fucks everything up?

“Speaking of Quidditch, have you heard that the Chudley Cannons just lost Gorgovitch because he was caught flying dragons?” Niall interjects, and the conversation quickly turns towards the game that Liam, Niall and Leigh-Anne all play.

The easy chatter continues for a bit, flowing from Quidditch to golf – Niall’s favourite muggle sport, which, when he finds that Louis has never heard of it, is explained to him in great detail – to the upcoming school year. It’s easy to get along with Louis and Leigh-Anne, and they join easily into the familiar banter that Liam has with Niall.

“And anyway,” Louis says at one point, “if Zayn’s being a huge wanker and doesn't do his fair share of the work, we can always play a few good pranks to get back at him. Had to do that last year with some Prefects, it may not have gotten any of their work done but at least it was satisfying.”  

Liam smiles involuntarily, enjoying the thought of annoying Zayn a bit too much. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. Zayn seems convinced he’s some rule worshipping puppet, but he’s a Gryffindor, first and foremost; some rules are meant to be broken. So, perfect. Zayn seems in need of a good prank anyway.  

It’s too early to be thinking about this, part of him whispers, he should at least give Zayn a chance. But then he thinks back to how haughty Zayn had been acting during their meeting with Cowell, and, well. He’ll see.

Eventually the fire dies down on the stroke of the (rather late) hour. Niall says goodnight and slips out of the now dark common room with a quietly muttered _lumos_ as the Gryffindors climb the stairs to the dormitories.

In the darkness of his bed, Liam’s mind can’t stop spinning the events of the evening around and around in his head as he gets ready for bed. He’ll have to spend the next school term working closely with Zayn.  

Zayn.

Everything he does seems calculated to set Liam on edge, _I’m not sure if I feel fully ready_ he’d said to Cowell. Well that was bloody good for him, Liam didn’t feel ready either but he wasn’t about to go shouting it to their Headmaster and gloating to himself that he wasn’t sucking up to Cowell’s arse.

Zayn’s just so infuriating, and yet Liam wishes he could forget about him. Decisively, he turns onto his side, hugging his covers closer and shutting his eyes. He’s going to stop thinking about Zayn Malik, damnit, he will _not_ lose any sleep thinking about him.

(Except for maybe what his face will look like when he gets hit by a dung bomb in the middle of the Great Hall. Hypothetically, of course.) 

* 

Waking up earlier than he’s been used to over summer doesn’t do much for Zayn’s mood, and he hadn’t slept well, worrying about how he and Liam will manage to work together **.** Nevertheless, he struggles out of bed the next morning feeling determined, despite how nice it would be to just stay in the cocoon of his bed for the new few hours.

He’s a Head Boy, and his co-Head is Liam Payne, of all people. But if he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it right.

Harry, the early riser, is already down in the common room and gives Zayn a smile that’s almost blinding with its energy at this time of the morning. “Shu’up,” he mumbles as Harry looks pointedly at what is probably the tangled mess of hair on his head. Normally he’d have spent quite some time styling his quiff but he frankly couldn’t be bothered this morning, with how awfully he’d slept the night before from all the things on his mind. He’d thought that he was okay with it, but the more he considers all the things they have to do, the more he realises that Liam’s panic may have just had an earlier onset than his.

At the breakfast table, he pours himself a cup of coffee, basking in its heavenly smell. The room is coming slightly more into focus now that he can think clearly, but it makes it harder to avoid all the things he has to do, like figure out where he’s going to meet Liam. Since he hadn't been woken by Liam’s owl pecking away at his window in the middle of the night, Zayn takes satisfaction in being the one to take the first step. And you could never tell, maybe the twat would show up in front of him today with smoke pouring out of his ears to complain that they were already behind schedule.

Neither he nor Harry have anything to write with, but he manages to convince an extremely studious Slytherin who seems to already be doing homework next to them to lend him a few inches of parchment and a quill. (Zayn has no clue where he’s gotten the material from, as the first lessons don’t even start for another half hour.)

“Y’could just walk over to him,” Harry observes as Zayn attempts to find space to write on the crowded table between the plates of food. He gives Harry a quelling look as he fits the parchment awkwardly between his and Harry’s plates of eggs and toast, flourishing his quill just a bit more dramatically than necessary to show just how little value he gives that idea. Harry rolls his eyes and continues his breakfast as Zayn jots down a brief instruction telling Liam to meet him in the library after their classes.

Harry’s right, of course, Zayn had seen Liam sitting at the Hufflepuff table when he’d come in to breakfast, but why talk to him any more than necessary when it will likely end up in yet another argument?

Zayn can hear Liam’s distinctive laugh clearly from the other side of the Hall, but he doesn’t turn around. He’ll be seeing more than enough of Liam for the rest of the year, and it’s not like he’s curious as to what the arsehole is laughing at so loudly anyway, probably some dumb Quidditch jokes.

“This doesn't have anything to do with your hair, does it?” Harry asks as he likes more tomatoes onto his plate. “Why do you even dislike him so much? I know Gryffindors can be over the top, but have you even talked to him?”

“Not really,” Zayn says, opting to ignore the first question, and avoiding Harry’s eyes. “He was in m’Divination class last year.”

Harry gives a hum of contemplation. He doesn’t press the issue, but Zayn can tell he won’t be put off that easily.

Their plates disappear, and Zayn’s _tempus_ tells him they’d better leave in the next minute or so if they want to be on time for their Arithmancy class on the other side of the castle. 

Zayn folds the parchment that he’d written in half and taps it with his wand. It floats up about an inch or so off the table before zooming away through the Hall, weaving between the knees of students beginning to make their way to class in between the long tables.

Liam is still at the same table, not that he’d been paying extensive attention. It was a bit hard not to notice when he was being so loud.

He stands up – Zayn has learned from experience that it’s never good to be late to Professor Teasdale’s classes – and heads towards the main hallway. He doesn’t watch to see if Liam gets the note, keeping his gaze pointed firmly ahead of him.

“Thought y’didn’t know him?” Harry asks wryly as he catches up to Zayn’s slightly faster pace a few seconds later.

Zayn doesn’t turn his head towards him. “I don’t.”

Harry snorts and doesn’t say anything else, but Zayn has to grab his elbow to stop Harry from turning around to look at the Hufflepuff table. “Let’s go to class.” 

*

After an extensive bout of too-long classes that make Zayn regret not bringing any materials and simultaneously dashing his hopes of being let off somewhat easily schoolwork-wise, Zayn drags himself reluctantly to the library.

He feels the extra weight of students’ gazes as he walks down the aisles, searching for Liam. An undercurrent of excited interest had followed him throughout the entire day as he’d walked through the halls and sat in classrooms. It’s been a subtle reminder that he had to pay attention, be a role model now. And more than needs to - he wants to. Which means, unfortunately, no more writing an essay in a night just because he knew he could leave it until the last minute and well, or leave readings until the final exam and not participate in discussions. But if he’s going to spend the rest of the year being directly compared to Liam, there was no way on earth he was going down without a fight.

 He’d even participated in the class discussions on the regulations surrounding charmed objects, despite the small flutter in his stomach, and the few raised eyebrows from professors who hadn't been expecting his contributions.

It was nice that Harry had been there for two of the lessons, the comfort of his presence had been a nice relief from that pressure. He hadn’t realized how exhausting it could be to have people paying attention to you all the time. 

A dark haired Hufflepuff girl had approached him in the halls as he was walking with Harry. The hearts in her eyes were practically visible from a mile away and Zayn had had a sinking feeling in his gut that was confirmed by the first words out of her mouth.  

“What’s Liam like, talking with him?” Her voice was breathless.

Zayn had rolled his eyes and tried to catch up to Harry, but when she’d begun tugging on his sleeve, he’d finally turned to her.  

“Why don’t you just go talk to him then?”

“Oh no - I could never.” She seemed shocked that he would even suggest it for a moment before renewing her questioning.

“But what does he smell like? Does he smell good?”  

The question brings a rush of memories to Zayn, fragmented recollections of the arousal he’d felt leaning close to Liam in the Hufflepuff common room, the spice of his aftershave mixed with alcohol that had spilled on his shirt, and beneath it all an intoxicating freshness, as identifiably _Liam_ as the earth after rainfall.

“Erhm, he smells like … dirt,” Zayn had replied - somewhat more awkwardly than he would have wished - it was hard to think straight when he could feel a flush creeping into his cheeks - before walking away. Liam’s scent is definitely under the category ‘things one shouldn’t like about one’s competitor.’ 

“So Liam has fans,” Harry had laughed as Zayn finally caught up to him a minute later. He’d slanted a sideways leer at Zayn. “Sure you’re not interested? Seems like a catch.”

“He’s an arse,” Zayn had said shortly, his mood soured by the encounter.

He’s definitely not interested.

Zayn finds Liam down one of the aisles, the warm brown of his hair matching the tone of the books surrounding him. He’s sitting at one of the long mahogany desks attached to the bookshelves in front of him, taking notes with his head bent over a thick tome. His tie is loosened and he’s only in his shirtsleeves, black robes slung over the back of his chair as if he’s been there for a while, even though Zayn isn’t late.

Definitely.

Liam glances up briefly as Zayn walks over, but turns back to his work without acknowledging him. A particular thread of irritation that is quickly becoming synonymous with Liam begins to surface. He’s obviously been working there a while, as if trying to show Zayn up once again.

It’s likely Liam will pull out everything he’s learned and make Zayn feel like he’s slacking off, even though it’s only their second day as Head Boys. But he’ll be calm about it this time, he tells himself. They can’t afford a fight right now, not with all the work they have to do. 

“Thanks for meeting,” he says as he takes the empty chair next to Liam. He can’t help swallowing at their proximity as he breathes in - stop. He needs to focus on their work.  

“Well it would have been nice to be _asked_ rather than commanded.” Liam doesn’t even look up, and the harsh words hit Zayn like a slap.  

“It's not like you did anything about it.” He can’t keep a hint of outrage out of his voice. This time when he tells himself _definitely not,_ he means it. 

“I was going to try to talk to you after class today, y’know, like in person, so we could have a discussion about where to meet?” 

 _Twat_ Zayn thinks. He ignores Liam’s question, instead choosing to barrel straight ahead into the work they're supposed to be doing. He begins riffling through the papers in front of him, trying to figure out exactly what they are. He senses Liam continually glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, and gives in a few minutes later.

“Well fine then, what do you want me to do?” he finally snaps **,** shoving the papers towards Liam. He’s already exhausted from his first courses, and Liam’s not helping that one bit. They should be working together, but if Liam is happy with being in control, let him take it.

“I dunno, you’re a Head too, why don’t you figure something out?” Liam raises an eyebrow.                 

Zayn fights the urge to snap back, which is taking more restraint by the second, and instead says, “seems like you had an opinion, m’just trying to help.

“Alright then,” comes Liam begins slowly, as if Zayn were a child. “I started looking up the different projects that Heads of House have undertaken, and those,” Liam points to a thick pile of parchment that is distinctively less yellow than certain other sheets scattered around the table, “are the more recent records. All the minutes for meetings, finances, stuff like that. The rest of it is closer to twenty years old, but it may have more historical information that we can use.” He pats the pile of papers gently, then turns to look Zayn directly in the eyes.

“And if you were really trying to help,” Liam says, voice low, “you would find something to do instead of just sitting there. You might be able to learn something.”

The insinuation that he hadn’t been working is annoying, but Zayn had expected it. What nudges Zayn over the the edge, pushes him into an even more unreasonable, stubborn mood, is the way that Liam’s voice is pitched low. It’s too similar to the last time he’d heard it like that, except everything is different, because right now it’s not rough with desire. It’s annoyance, like Zayn is a bug to be flicked off, when he’d been the one trying to actually work together.

He grabs the nearest pile of papers with a huff, glancing over titles like _Statement of Financial Position, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Q3_ (and sub headings about assets, accrued liabilities, and a surplus of acronyms that he’ll have to take the time to figure out) even more determined to sort through them to get a sense of exactly what Liam’s strategy is.

“That’s useless, I’ve already gone through those,” comes Liam’s voice a few minutes later, laced with incredulity.

His voice breaks Zayn’s concentration, and he looks up to see Liam’s imperious frown directed at the pages in his hands. “Well, you didn’t tell _me_ that.” He tries to keep himself calm, but is Liam serious? “What did you use them for?”

“‘m not your nanny,” Liam replies harshly without looking up, as if daring him to respond. He flips a page in the stack he’s reading.

Zayn makes a noise of frustration, and Liam finally raises his eyes to meet Zayn with a harsh glare that clearly reads _can’t you do anything?_ He hadn’t even realized their voices were raised, but he becomes abruptly aware of how loud they must have seemed in a _library_ during the next few seconds of silence as he struggles against the feeling of choking on his tongue.

He resists the urge to simply get up and walk away, to find a place where he can calm down and think, because Liam might see him as slacking off yet again. The cool reserve he’d managed to exude during their first meeting is nowhere to be found, he’s boiling with anger and frustration. He’s not sure how they even got there over some bloody pieces of parchment, he hadn’t been trying to cause an actual fight, and he doubts Liam would ever intentionally raise is voice in a library.

He’s distracted by a sudden shift in the mood around him, a quiet ripple that shudders along the shelves of books surrounding them before everything goes silent, like animals deserting a forest before a disaster.

Hogwarts’ library wasn’t an unfamiliar place to Zayn, but it feels so now. He’d never paid attention to the energy of the books, but it’s suddenly, instantly gone. There’s a gaping hole left by a presence that he isn’t sure how he’d ever missed before.

Seconds later, Madame Pince rounds the corner of their aisle, her face stormy as she walks purposefully towards them. Next to him, Liam straightens in his seat as she approaches, her hair the same colour as the inky black robes billowing in a way that makes her presence seem much larger than her thin frame. She stops, just a foot away, and Zayn is glad that Liam is closer to her, as if he can shield him from her looming presence. He understands the books’ reactions now.

“Boys,” she begins sternly, “I could hear you bickering from across the library. Surely you know better.” She pauses a moment, letting the judgment in the words sink deeply into them. “If you’re unable to behave appropriately, _particularly_ as Seventh Years, even more so as leaders and role models within Hogwarts, I will ask you to leave.”

“We’re extremely sorry,” Liam begins, and Zayn’s brief glimmer of relief for Liam’s willingness to resolve issues like this is squelched by the warning look Liam gives him as he opens his mouth to voice his own apologies. Does Liam honestly think he’s so incompetent that he’d say something sarcastic to Madame Pince and get them in trouble?  

Liam mutters a few more apologies, and Madame Pince is beginning, unexpectedly, to look like she might forgive them. But suddenly, Liam is standing, shrugging on his robes. He looks over at Zayn, and, obviously noting that he hasn’t moved, leans over.  

“We’re leaving,” Liam whispers into Zayn’s ear. A firm look silences the protest on Zayn’s lips before he can voice any of his thoughts.

 Madame Pince is still standing there, and Liam motions for him to hurry up, already in the middle of gathering together the mess of papers on the table. Zayn finally pushes his half of the sheets resentfully into a haphazard pile. But as he brings his wand out to tap the parchment, a _diminuendo_ on his lips, the librarian steps forward, batting his hand away none too gently.

“You can’t use any shrinking spells on these, it damages the parchment.”

“They’re brand new,” Zayn objects, but she isn’t having it.

“All the library materials were at some point, the purpose is to keep them as close to that state as possible.” He opens his mouth again, but she swiftly cuts him off. “And no duplication either. As Heads of House you have the authority to take them from the library, but you cannot use any magic. Besides, nothing will work even if you tried. They’ve been spelled with archival magic.” She finishes almost smugly, as if she had successfully stopped Zayn and Liam from committing some horrendous crime with the books.

“Alright,” Zayn begins slowly. She’s eyeing them as if expecting them to make an attempt to dash out of the library, and he’s afraid she might jump on him again as he begins to speak. “But we _can_ take them then, yeah?” He glances over at Liam, who seems as unsure as he is, for once. Hurriedly, Zayn starts to gather the parchment, and Liam finally joins in. The librarian simply stands and watches them with narrowed eyes until they walk away.

Their hesitation dissolves into anger once they’re out of Madame Pince’s sight. Zayn takes perverse satisfaction in being louder than necessary as they walk. He can hear Liam stomping heavily next to him, earning them both glares and hushes from the students they pass. At least they agree on some things, then.

The feeling disintegrates as soon as they step off of the hardwood of the library. Out in the cooler air of the dark stone corridor, the logistics begin to press in on Zayn. They’d barely been getting along inside, where were they supposed to go now?

“I suppose we could … we can go to the Gryffindor common room, it’s the closest,” Liam says offers, but he looks unwilling to share his space with Zayn.  

Zayn scoffs, sharing the sentiment. He doesn’t really want to be surrounded by a bunch of Gryffindors who could gang up on him at any moment if he and Liam started disagreeing again.

“It’s your fault for-” Liam begins, obviously getting more stressed by the second. Being kicked out is like a pail of cold water being thrown on the two of them – they really have a lot to do, and Zayn knows that it’s not going to work well if they keep going like this.

“Okay,” Zayn says decisively, “how ‘bout we each take half of the papers, we’ll go through them separately, and I’ll send you an owl if I need anything.”

 Liam looks like he’s about to protest, obviously wary of leaving the precious papers with Zayn, but he pauses and then relents 

“Alright, you’re right, that’s probably better,” he sighs, before collecting himself. “So – all you have to do is read through those and note down any-”  

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Leeyum,” Zayn interjects, drawing out his name mockingly. “I have a brain y’know.”

Liam opens his mouth again with a glare that’s already becoming familiar, but obviously thinks better of it. “Fine then, see y’Thursday.” 

Zayn nods, feeling momentarily smug at finally having come up with a plan that’s likely to be the best way for them to work together. But then a paper slips off the top of the none-too-light pile of papers still in his arms, and the feeling disappears. He makes a grab for the rest of the slowly sliding stack, praying that he isn’t bending any of the corners too badly, after all the fuss that Madame Pince had made. It’s physical proof of all the work he has yet to do. 


	2. Chapter 2

 Zayn’s chest is tight with stress as he scrambles to write the last foot of parchment for his Advanced Arithmancy seminar. It’s just past midnight, he’s sitting in the library, and he still has work to complete before he can finish his preparations for the Prefect’s meeting the next day.

His classes are slowly building up their workloads, and he can feel himself beginning to fall just a little behind.

He’s currently in the main atrium of the library. It’s about a third full, other sixth and seventh years working past their dormitory curfew at the large circular tables spaced around the area.

On the rare nights when he’s not holed up in the Slytherin common room with Harry, Zayn’s been spending his late night study sessions here.

Harry had laughed at the beginning, “I’ve never seen you working this far in advance, wonder how long you’ll keep it up,” but eventually the joke had lost its novelty. Now, more often than not he’s ended up simply joining Zayn for late nights of studying, except when Zayn was forced to stay up later than Harry’s miserably early (in Zayn’s opinion) bedtime of 11 pm.

Zayn prefers the feeling of sitting under the wide-open night sky in the Great Hall, but this is the next best thing; the first time he’d walked into the Great Hall with Harry, hoping to finish his Arithmancy project, he’d been confronted by Liam’s hunched figure as they’d walked down one of the aisles.

It had been in the evening, and Zayn had wanted to avoid the library after the incident with Madame Pince. But even from the opposite end of the Hall, Liam’s presence had been a constant distraction to Zayn. His mind had constantly wandered to his co-Head, and Zayn had ended up spending much more time wondering how well Liam was working than focusing on his own assignments. Even Harry, sitting next to him, had commented on his lack of focus, and wondered out loud, none too subtly, if there was a specific reason for it.

Zayn had tried the Great Hall one more time on his own a few days later, hoping that he could somehow desensitize himself to Liam or something like that, but he’d given up halfway through to return to the common room where he could work in peace. He really needed to get a grip, but for now his focus was more important.

Zayn’s third time to the Hall had been his last; he’d paused in the entrance and turned around after recognizing Liam in his now familiar spot. At least his constancy pretty much guaranteed that the library, the only other place besides the Hall where sixth and seventh years could stay up past curfew, would be Liam-free.

As he’d hoped, Madame Pince had given him a serious look when he’d walked into the library, but hadn’t said anything else. At least Zayn had been able to take some satisfaction out of proving Liam wrong about the fact that they weren’t allowed back in the library.

And here he is now, thinking about Liam again, but at least now that they’re not in the same room, he’s a bit of an improvement in his efficiency. This week has actually been one of Zayn’s most productive so far; normally he can slide by with good grades through last minute cramming sessions, and some of his best essays have been written with cramped hands and a quill at three am, but the extra workload of his Head of House duties, not to mention the knowledge that he has to compete with Liam’s teacher’s-pet ways has been a challenge.

Thirty minutes later, Zayn dots the final period of his essay and blows out a breath, dropping his quill back into the ink well. Some of the weight lifts from his chest at having completed it, but he still has so much to do before the next morning. He gives himself a few minutes to take a break, doodling in a muggle notebook he’d brought from home because he likes the way it absorbs the ink better than parchment.

An hour later he’s immersed once again in the mess of parchments, struggling to find anything useful. The only somewhat relevant information he’s managed to uncover just underscores even more that he and Liam need to be successful; Zayn finds records of just how close some of the previous Heads had been to losing their privileges when they were struggling too much.

The past few years have had the most problems, and it seem as if at some points Cowell’s patience had worn thin. The Heads had seemed to pull through at the last minute, but it’s possible that their Headmaster could strip he and Liam of their duties if they aren't responsible enough.

Fabulous. He hadn’t thought it was possible to become more stressed about, but evidently, he’d been wrong.  

Zayn’s wading through some incomprehensible meeting minutes from over ten years ago, trying to stay awake, when a high-pitched shrieking sound somewhere above him yanks his gaze upwards.

He doesn’t see anything in the air for a second until a bright green flash lights up the room, followed by a bang. Seconds later there’s another noise and this time there’s a blue light– they’re firecrackers, Zayn realizes. Someone’s set off firecrackers in the middle of the library.

He stands, half tense as his mind flips over the situation, trying to make a split-second decision about whether he should leave. The students at the tables around him are all watching too, mouths hanging open in shock.

A third, then fourth, then fifth cracker flies over their heads, one exploding into a shower of glimmering red dust, another careening about the room like a crazed animal with a golden slipstream. A few students gasp and duck as the crackers near them, and Zayn hears intakes of breath throughout the room as the chaos only increases. He’s glancing everywhere, but too many things are happening to make sense of the situation.

A few students near the edge of the room are edging towards the door, but their wide eyes remain riveted to the display unfolding in the atrium. A bright pink, twinkling replica of the Hogwarts express chugs through air that is gradually turning grey with accumulating smoke like a thick fog has descended over the library, making certain areas hard to see. A sea of other creatures and objects, mixed with simpler shapes normally found in muggle fireworks form a cacophony of light and sound, some even bouncing off the high ceiling. The not-unpleasant smell of something burning hangs in the air that Zayn breathes in, his chest pounding with adrenaline and confusion, but it’s also exciting, and pretty funny to have the normally quiet library so disrupted.

The show, or joke or whatever it is begins to crescendo as the bursts of multicolored light come more frequently. Two firecrackers wiz so closely to Zayn’s head that he flinches and sits abruptly back down onto his seat. Somewhere to his left, the shriek of a seagull sounds. It’s followed by a firecracker in the form of said seagull swooping down and flying directly into one of the tall bookcases, exploding in a shower of sparks that are followed by laughter from some of the students.

Seconds later, one orange and white cracker begins to corkscrew a few feet above Zayn’s head, and another explodes into a star right next to it, pulsing in brightness a few times before fading away.

They’re so close to him that it’s hard to see, but as Zayn glance around the rest of the tables, he realizes that nothing else is happening in the room anymore; the only explosions still going off are directly above his head. All eyes are on the display above his head, most with wide smiles on their faces, now that they aren’t trying to dodge some of the rogue fireworks.

Something turquoise rains down around Zayn, and as he spins around, trying to see what’s happening, a hippogriff canters above him in luminescent yellow.

Three more bangs go off in quick succession, creating an enormous ball of gold, orange and red reminiscent of flames, larger than any of the other firecrackers in the room. They burst apart into flickering embers and slowly fade away, leaving a stunned silence and a thick grey cloud directly above Zayn’s head.

Not two seconds later, Madame Pince blows into the room. She’s waving her wand furiously and muttering. As Zayn watches, the smoke in the air whisks upwards as if sucked by an invisible fan, disappearing almost immediately.

Everything else is still motionless, and it feels eerily similar to the last time Zayn encountered the librarian. Her gaze locks with Zayn’s and she walks slowly toward him, eyes filled with anger.

“Zayn Malik. This is the second time you’ve been involved in a disturbance in my library. How interesting that this year so far there have only _been_ two incidents, and you’ve been here for both.” Her voice is ice.

“I wasn’t- erm, I-” Zayn starts to mumble, his mind frantically working to figure out what he can say. All the students are watching him, and those who had been giggling before are now stone-faced, obviously aware that there’s no longer any humour in the situation.

“Out of my library. I’ll be having a talk with Headmaster Cowell about the appropriate response to …” she waves her hand at the disarray of the library and wrinkles her nose, “this.”

“I wasn’t a part of it, honestly, I have no idea who it was.”

She chooses to ignore him. “But for now, I think the first of the consequences is clear. You are no longer welcome here. Go.”

Her demeanor is so scathing that Zayn knows it’s useless to continue arguing. Fine then.

“I guess I won’t bother if you’ve already made up your mind about blaming me,” he says calmly. He begins to pack up his schoolwork from the table.

Madame Pince seems aghast at the disrespect in his response, and her gaze hardens further when he looks up to see if she’s watching. Calmly, he turns around and walks toward the door.

That’s it for the library, then.

*

It’s back in the dormitories, curled in the green comforter of his bed with the curtains drawn and a _lumos_ hanging in the air above him that Zayn lets himself consider the shittiness of the situation.

He doesn’t know whose poor idea of a prank that was, or why of all the stupid coincidences the air _right above his head_ had to be chosen for the finale, but it fucking sucks.

Was there even a point to disrupting a bunch of students from their studying? Zayn can’t think of the benefits other than simply to cause mischief, and even then, none of the sleep deprived students had been laughing at the end of it.

Worst of all, the special, _precious,_ parchments are now looking as if they’ve been dunked in a vat of ash, and he doesn’t know what to do about that.

He can feel the panic lodging in his throat as he shuffles through them, now smeared with black charcoal, difficult to read and illegible in some places. What will Liam say?

He’s afraid of the effects a _scourgio_ might have on the paper, not to mention that it may have any effect, due to the archival charms Madame Pince had mentioned. If he makes it worse…

He hadn’t realized how attached he’d become to the role until he feels a bolt of protectiveness run through him at the thought of losing his Position of Head of House, which may happen if Madame Pince shoves him under the bus with Cowell.

If he can find the perpetrators of the prank, maybe he can somehow prove that he had nothing to do with it. That’s a consideration for later though, because for the moment his first meeting as a Head of House is looming, he’s barely prepared, and he won’t be getting nearly enough sleep as it is.

His mind falls hopelessly onto the stories he’d heard about the time when Fred and George Weasley had practically blown up the Great Hall with their own sort of prank with fireworks. In their legendary exit from Hogwarts over twenty years ago, Zayn’s pretty sure there hadn’t been any negative consequences like the mess he has to deal with now. They’d been the innovators at Hogwarts, always full of new and insanely creative and brilliant ideas, and the mess that just happened comes nowhere close.

Whoever had planned it as a prank needs to spend a bit more time thinking things through. And be more inspired.

Zayn looks down at the ashy mess in front of him. Maybe _he_ needs to be more inspired.

He’s wasted too many excruciatingly fruitless hours on the disorganized pages. What if he got more creative?

Determinedly, he pushes the stack off to the side and grabs his own quill. It feels like a bit of a shot in the dark to just come up with his own ideas, but considering that he’s made absolutely no progress so far, he may as well try. The nightmarish vision of himself standing in front of the Prefects and Liam with absolutely nothing is more than enough additional motivation.

Already, he’s beginning to jot down a list of activities he could maybe bring to the meeting. Some are inspired by past charity events and school spirit-building days that he had read about, but for the most part, they’re events that are more exciting than anything he’d encountered so far in the bloody parchment. Or so he hopes. He wants to see them all come to life.

To be fair, he shouldn’t have expected the parchments to reveal all the secrets to being a Head of House, they weren’t created for that. Most of the records from later years had been somewhat lacking, and he’s even been forced to read the more yellowed parchments from when the dual Heads of House system had been instituted. He just wishes he’d considered that before now. Now that he thinks about it, he wonders what, exactly, Liam is managing to get out of them.

Zayn supposes he’ll find out tomorrow anyway, so he focus on his own informal list of ideas. He quickly falls into a state of concentration, everything falling into place now that he’s approaching his preparation from a different perspective.

By the time he feels like he has enough material, he’s way past the point of knackered. As he mutters a quiet _nox_ and lies back on his bed though, Zayn feels much more satisfied than he has in the past week, and possibly a bit cocky now that he’s more confident about what he has. He can’t wait to see what Liam has planned. 

* 

Zayn’s about ten minutes early to the room where they're holding the Prefect’s meeting. He tries not to let the now very familiar sensation of the nerves in his stomach get to him, but by the time he’s walking down the hall to the classroom in the third floor corridor that’s been designated their meeting place, the flock fluttering around inside his stomach has grown about three times in size. 

He’d hoped to catch Liam before the other prefects arrive, since neither of them have a clue what the other has been doing. Zayn had aimed to give them just enough time to have a conversation without it escalating into an argument, as he’d assumed Liam would be early.

But no one is in the room yet.

Feeling a bit deflated, he sets his bag down on the floor near the wall, and surveys the room. It contains about thirty individual desks, which won’t work well at all for any type of group discussion.

He sets to work piling the desks along the walls of the room, stacking some of them with a levitation charm. His pace slows as he continues, but the first two Prefects enter, introducing themselves as Jesy and Rayan, and immediately begin. 

Rayan isn’t the most graceful at levitation charms, apparently, since his first desk ends up perched precariously on top of two others, rather than in the neat stacks that Zayn had been working on. He goes to correct it, but Jesy lets out a laugh and simply blasts it with a strong sticking charm that makes the chair shiver with the impact before settling in place.

Jesy’s next desk ends up upside down, touching the floor by only one corner of the table and a leg. Not to be outdone, Zayn joins in, relishing the familiar singing of magic in his veins as he calls up spell after easy spell to make the desks soar across the room. 

As Prefects trickle into the room, they join the game, all attempting to fit the furniture as if they’re playing a game of tetris. Zayn can’t sink too deeply into the joy of it though, as he finds himself continually glancing at the door as he works. Merlin only knows how Liam will respond to them having some _fun._ Zayn can feel the defensiveness as he smiles and laughs slightly louder than necessary, unconsciously steeling himself against Liam’s inevitable scorn. There’s a buzz in his stomach that increases as the moments tick by with no sign of Liam. He’s not sure if it’s anticipation or dread. 

Soon, when the classroom is clear in the middle. Zayn looks around him, feeling a sense of pride as he takes in the Prefects’ grins at how they’re surrounded by a playground of tables that look as if they could topple at any moment. 

“That was too fun,” Perrie laughs as she rolls up the sleeves of her robes, “we should do that every time. Thanks, Zayn.” 

The smiles of agreement to Perrie’s comment ease some of the pressure in Zayn’s chest. He can tell that the Prefects are tentatively approving, and he hadn’t had to do any actual talking. Hopefully things will continue like this when they get to the actual planning part.

The classroom door closes for a final time at exactly 4:30. Zayn counts all twenty four students, laughing and joking with each other, yet somehow still managing to seem extremely well behaved. He’s never quite been around a crowd of people so organized, but he supposes it makes sense; they are Prefects.

Liam bustles in a minute later, wide eyed and slightly out of breath, with … wet hair. He’s obviously just come from a shower, and the reason becomes evident once he catches his breath a bit and mumbles, “sorry, sorry – just come from Quidditch.”

“No worries, mate,” Louis says, “you’re right on time anyway.”

It’s a good thing Louis answers for him, because Zayn is finding it a bit hard to focus as he takes in the sight of Liam, glowing and flushed, skin still damp. Once again, it sends an involuntary skitter of images through his mind, and he wishes he couldn’t remember everything so clearly – in fact he shouldn’t, he hadn’t even been sober. Yet there the memories are once again, uninvited. 

“Wish someone could’ve given me one of those time turner thingies,” Liam jokes good naturedly to the crowd of students that have now for some reason quieted down and are listening to him.

Zayn finally finds his voice, but he regrets the words as soon as he’d said them. “Yeah, because the only reason we should use time travel is to spend more time in classes,” he throws back sarcastically.

He’d only meant it as a playful challenge; the high of residual magic still singing through his body and his optimism for the meeting had made him respond unthinkingly to the opportunity to joke. Besides, Liam’s literally just come from Quidditch, he obviously isn’t spending every second of the day on schoolwork. 

But then the reality he should have expected sets in. As Liam turns, catching sight of Zayn, all the light disappears from his eyes. 

It’s more painful than it should be, to see Liam have such a strongly negative reaction to him, and the glimmers of arousal Zayn had felt upon first seeing Liam shrivel up like dying flowers. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though; Liam is looking past Zayn, and it’s like watching a storm cross his face as he takes in the stack of desks (that do look somewhat dangerous, Zayn will admit, even if they aren’t in danger of falling) against the walls. _This won’t be good._

“Who did that, we could all be killed!” 

The chatter in the room goes silent and the Prefects around them visibly tense, obviously attuned to any discord between them.

He could apologize, but honestly – they’re wizards, it’d be mad to assume that they were just piled all unsafely up there. The weight of the gazes of twenty prefects keeps him from anything too mean, but he still says “What, never heard of a sticking charm, Liam?” as coolly as he can. 

Then, dismissively, he turns to face the Prefects and asks “So. Sorry about the little delay everyone, should we start off our first meeting?” And maybe, just maybe, he considers it a small satisfaction to repay Liam for showing up looking like _that._  

Maybe. 

Taking the leadership role, when he knows Liam imagines himself the only competent one of the two of them, doesn’t hurt either. 

Zayn hushes the part of himself that whispers that he shouldn’t care so much, shouldn’t put so much effort into defying Liam’s expectations. What Liam thinks is none of his business, so what if he dislikes Zayn? They’re only planning events together. After this year, they’ll be done with each other.

He walks up to the front of the room, and Liam joins him, looking - he tries to quell the thought and fails - irritatingly, remarkably composed. 

But then Zayn turns to face the room full of twenty-four Prefects, and suddenly it’s as if the two of them have been shoved onto the same team. He and Liam are standing at the head of the classroom, but it feels ironic that they’re the least experienced ones here; even the newly inducted Prefects have had a week of their duties, guided by the other Prefects into all the first week orientation activities involving orientations. Yet all pairs of eyes are settled expectantly on them. 

He resists the urge to step backwards, do something to lessen the pressure of the audience, and Liam clears his throat, preparing to speak. Of course, Zayn thinks. He may have felt the tiniest bit of relief that Liam is talking, but that’s irrelevant - it’s irritating how evident it is that Liam believes he has to do all the heavy lifting. 

Liam takes a breath to begin, but then pauses, distracted by the subtle shuffling in the room. Zayn glances at the faces in front of him, trying to assess yet another shift in the mood. It seems that they’ve somehow made a misstep not five minutes into their meeting.

After another awkward pause, with both Zayn and Liam standing uncertainly up front not wanting to say anything, a Gryffindor, Leigh-something he thinks, pipes up from the middle of the group.

“Well, normally we do some introductions, games, things like that,” she offers, though it’s directed mostly towards Liam. Figures that they would be friends.

“Erhm, well… well, we can do that.” Liam looks just as bewildered as Zayn feels. None of the research he’d done all week had led him to believe that the meetings were anything other than extremely efficient exchanges of ideas, votes, and other mundane discussions of things like finances. He’d been excited to get to the brainstorming session, to see what the Prefects who had actual experience with school events thought of his tentative plans. 

On the other hand, that was why he’d abandoned the parchments, they really hadn’t given him (or Liam, evidently) a clear idea of what they were to do. The petty side of him loves that Liam is obviously unprepared from the parchments, just as he was.

“We have some things to discuss, but I guess we can get to those late-” Liam begins, but he’s interrupted.

“Oh, that type of stuff doesn’t usually come until _ages_ later,” Louis says dismissively, but Jade, a Ravenclaw Prefect steps forward.

“Well, technically we aren’t sure, is the thing. Last year was a bit of a mess, Rose and Nira didn’t even show up to the meeting, we had to sort of plan and figure out the events ourselves. And Cowell was no help either,” she rolls her eyes. The other Prefects nod in agreement, frustration written on their faces.

Zayn feel slightly relieved that at least they can’t fuck this up _too_ much, that they’re all a little lost. But there are obviously still certain traditions that the Prefects have created for themselves. They’re still out of the loop.

“Isn’t the Cup meant to, like, select whoever’s the best and will work together?” Zayn asks. It doesn’t make sense that everyone has been so lost. What does this say about he and Liam, are they really meant to lead? Given how the week has gone, he can’t see by any stretch of logic how it could be a good decision for he and Liam to be put together.

“Well, it does,” explains Jade assuredly. “As we said, Nira and Rose were a bit off at the beginning, but the final ball last year was beautiful. It just took them some time to get everything sorted. You two are already doing better, I wouldn’t worry.” 

She must see the uncertainty on their faces, because she adds on, “Oh, the magic’s probably just aging a bit, but it’s still fine. You can’t be renewing the spells every time, it takes a lot of work, and if it’s constantly being redone, who knows what kind of biases could be put on it, you know? There were two years straight when it was Hufflepuffs chosen, and everyone got a bit on edge even though they were doing their best, so when everything went back to normal everyone was relieved.”

“Oh, okay then,” Zayn finds himself smiling casually and saying. “I mean, we’ve been working all this week on plans.” He doesn’t add that they weren’t together for any of it.  

“Alright,” Liam cuts in, clapping his hands together. “Let’s start with some introductory games then, what are everyone’s favourites?” And just like that, the subject is forgotten.

Liam, of course, already knows all the Prefects all from various activities. He doesn’t hesitate to begin an extremely friendly conversation with the fifth-year Hufflepuff Prefect standing right next to him only ten minutes into the meeting. Zayn had pretended not to notice as Liam asked the boy about his great-aunt, who apparently had a problem with her vegetable garden and ended up in St. Mungo’s after a fertilizing spell had gone wrong.    

It’s obvious how much fun Liam is having, how much he’s in his element. He’s pleasant and playful, but still serious, as is Liam’s signature. He suggests games that Zayn’s never heard of, and easily remembers the random facts that the Prefects throw out to be memorized so they can get to know each other.

Zayn watches as he approaches a group of seventh year’s who’d split off from the rest of the Prefects. They burst into laughter at something Liam says and then disperse to rejoin the younger students. It’s odd for Zayn to think about Liam being able to get along with people like that, so easily. 

He and Liam had never been close, had only known each other from their one class, although he’d thought Liam was cute. He’s not even sure how they’d ended up talking at that party, just remembers joining some other Slytherins everything had been a blur of drinks and laughter and spinning rooms. What had happened after that though remains clearly in his mind, as much as he wishes to forget. 

He gets along with everyone but Zayn, really, although Zayn supposes that’s understandable, given their past. Zayn hadn’t been the most friendly to him, either.

But no – he isn’t going to dig up the past; Zayn focuses instead on his goal of not letting himself be outdone. By the time they’re an hour into the meeting, he’s already feeling more confident, having made a point of introducing himself to all the Prefects he didn’t know, mostly younger students. More worryingly, some of them, he gets the feeling, are concerned he’ll snap at them like he had at Liam. 

They transition into some brainstorming sessions to begin the actual work, Zayn and Liam somehow mutually agreeing without talking to split off into two groups so they don’t have to interact.

Once they’ve organized everyone, Zayn starts off his group session. He’s not sure what Liam’s doing with his group, but he’s decided to prioritize coming up with a general idea of their events for the year.

Just thinking about all the financial applications and budgets, committees needing to be formed, and all the other bureaucratic intricacies of dealing with the Hogwarts requirements for school events makes his head hurt. And without any teacher to help them, it seems, Zayn feels a flicker of panic any time he considers the issue for too long. 

“So, for our first event, I was thinking about a scavenger hunt maybe, something more fun?” he asks, looking around the circle of his twelve prefects. “I thought it might be interesting to do some activities that are more interactive for the first years, how does everyone feel about that?”   

The excited discussion begins.

Almost from the beginning, he can sense from his group that he and Liam are still on shaky ground. His Prefects participate, but it’s as if they have to keep reassuring themselves that Zayn is real, and willing to work with them. He’d sensed it from the immediate jump in wariness after his barb at Liam during the beginning of the meeting, but he only fully considers the implications now. 

Perrie suggests things, and then hesitates and offers a simpler alternative, as if worried that her ideas will be dismissed because Zayn won’t want put in the effort. Nira takes her own set of notes on the discussion, even though a parchment and a charmed quill sit just off to the side, taking down a record of the meeting minutes. 

With what happened in the past few years, the Prefects, particularly the older ones, still don’t yet quite seem to confident that they won’t be left hanging as has happened in the past. 

It’s quickly becoming clear that he and Liam need to make more of an effort to get along in public. Everything could end in disaster if their Prefects don’t trust them.

An hour later though, as they call an end to the meeting, Zayn is feeling somewhat elated. They’ve solidified a fun sort of event to celebrate the first years’ completion of their first month at Hogwarts. It will also function as an orientation of the lesser travelled corners of the school. His group had immediately jumped on board with his idea of a scavenger hunt, and it had grown from there.  

As they wrap everything up, Zayn reflects on how they’ve managed to make it through the first meeting, their first and arguably the most intimidating. That’s something. If they simply continue in the same way, everything should be fine, he hopes.

He approaches Liam as they finish helping the Prefects undo the final sticking charms and replacing the desks in their original positions. “D’you think we should go somewhere and figure out what we’re doing so we can split up our tasks?” 

“Sure,” Liam nods, “where did you want to go? You’ve been in the library lately, haven’t you?”

Bollocks. He must have heard. And now he’ll hold it over Zayn’s head like he’s superior. 

“Well actually, sunshine,” Zayn says more breezily than he feels, “I was kicked out last night because of some stupid joke that was blamed on me.” 

“Kicked out?” Liam looks more surprised than he should. Zayn wonders if he’s being mocked. “Why did they think it was you?” 

“Because, Liam, some stupid arsehole set off a bunch of firecrackers right above where I was sitting so Madame Pince took that as an indication that I’d planned it. Anyways, that isn’t the point. Where should we go? There’s a class in this room soon.”

“Well since we can’t go to the library-” Liam begins to argue in a whisper, looking around to make sure there aren’t any Prefects to overhear his tone, “because you’ve somehow gotten yourself kicked out _twice_ In a single year - shame, that - then I suppose-”

Zayn scoffs, cutting him off. “That’s not fair, last night had nothing to do with me, and the first time was only because you were too intimidated by Madame Pince, she didn’t even order us to-”

Their quiet debate is interrupted by Louis. “Problem, lads?”

“No, we’re fine,” Liam says, brows still furrowed in frustration. “Just trying to figure out where we can work, because we were kicked out of the lib-”

“Well _you_ weren’t kicked out Liam, you just-”

“Woah, calm down boys,” Louis says. “And … wait,” he looks between them, confused. “You’re not using the office? I saw you ‘round the Great Hall, Payno, but I thought you must’ve been holed up in the office all this week, Zayn.”

Office? Zayn glances quickly over at Liam to see if he knows what Louis is talking about, but Liam’s face is equally blank.

When neither Zayn nor Liam have a clue what he’s talking about, Louis continues, almost incredulously. “Y’know, the office for the Heads of House? Just like how we have a Prefects bathroom? So that you can work and keep all your stuff.”

“Uh, no, we haven’t heard of it,” Zayn says tentatively, wondering if this is some sort of joke. They have their own office, and it wasn’t mentioned once. He briefly wonders if Liam knew about it and kept it to himself, but he doubts Liam would have spent so much time in the library if he had.

“It’s on the seventh floor?” Louis continues to glance between them. “Down the hall from that awful statue of the Pegasus that Peeves loves.”

Liam shrugs. “I guess no one mentioned it?”

“Well, it’s basically like the Prefects bathrooms. It’s a place for just you two to use when you need.”

It sounds perfect, actually, if it’s as nice as the Prefects bathrooms. Zayn can immediately see the advantages - namely, he and Liam can let everyone think that they’re working together inside, when they definitely aren’t. “We could check it out now? And finish discussing the meeting.”

Another advantage is that they can argue as much as they want with no one overhearing. There are no Prefects listening in that they have to worry about.

“Alright,” Liam nods.

*

On the seventh floor, they quickly find the familiar statue, exactly as Louis described.

Liam, ahead of Zayn, walks over to one of the few doors past it, but pauses, uncertain which one it is.

“What door did Louis say again?” He seems reluctant to open any of the doors.

Zayn walks, pushing one open. It’s empty classroom, judging by the arrangement of desks.  The second door, more awkwardly, has a teacher that they’re unfamiliar with; he’s in the middle of setting up materials for class, and looks up at them questioningly through green spectacles.

The third door that Zayn opens to an office so generic that it almost seems out of place, and he goes to close the door before he freezes. It’s an office … but surely this isn’t their office? It’s nowhere near the level of opulence that the Prefect bathroom has.

“D’you think this is it?” he asks Liam.

Liam had looked a bit uncertain too, but at Zayn’s words he simply says “course it is, it’s an office,” and shoves past Zayn into the room.

What seems to be their office isn’t cramped, but it’s not spacious either. There’s a small window along the far wall, which thankfully lets in some daylight. It offsets the grey stone walls, at odds with the cheap wood desk and two chairs that sit under the window. Aside from the single tall, thin bookshelf in the left corner of the room, they’re the only pieces of furniture. It feels like a cross between what Zayn’s seen of muggle offices and a medieval dungeon. The air is even the slightest bit cooler, enough for Zayn to consider a quick warming charm, but he dismisses it. They won’t be here long enough for that anyway, and he doubts they’ll be coming back if this is all there is.

Liam hums unhappily as he pulls out the chair and spins it around. He straddles the back of it, facing Zayn still standing near the door. “Well, I don’t see why anyone would spend time here,” he says, the disappointment evident in his voice. “But I guess if we plan now, we don’t have to meet again for a while.” He begins to unknot his red and gold tie, and Zayn looks away.

“Sure,” he says. “So what were you thinking about for the first event?”

Liam pulls a piece of parchment out of a pocket and runs his eyes over it. “So we thought just a few tours of the school, if we separate the first years into groups, and then we can have a series of lectures from different teachers, and they can discuss …”

As Liam talks from his seat, outlining what seems to be a mind-numbing day for some poor first years, Zayn walks around the room.

His attention falls to the bookshelf, mostly because it’s the only semi-interesting thing there. Most of the books it holds are classic Hogwarts texts that he recognizes, _A History of Magic, Fantastic Beasts_ , and the like. Everything is just so … bland, Zayn thinks as he pulls one after another off of the shelves. They seem brand new, as if no one has even opened them before. He can’t fathom why any Prefects would willingly use this room, he really wouldn’t consider it a privilege.

“Zayn, are you even listening?” Liam interrupts himself. Zayn keeps his gaze on the book in front of him but he can hear Liam twisting around to see what he’s looking at.

“Yeah, you were thinking of lunch at twelve,” he parrots back disinterestedly. Even Liam doesn’t sound that excited about his own plans, and that should be a dead giveaway that it will be a mind-numbing day for some poor first years. They’ll be uninterested in more lectures; there are way better ways to build school spirit. He really should have met up as a group at the end of the meeting, so Liam could have seen the support for Zayn’s own idea, but it’s too late now.

He hears Liam’s loud sigh in response. After a pause, Liam resumes talking, obviously tired of dealing with him.

Zayn returns his attention to the books, half-paying attention to Liam’s voice. Mentally, he’s planning how to describe his scavenger hunt to Liam, should he list off the benefits straight away, or begin a bit less confrontationally, maybe suggest his idea as an alternative? It has to be presented perfectly, because Liam has to understand it, be able to see why his idea works.

Zayn’s abandoned the books and made it to the desk by the time Liam finishes, but he finds nothing more than a few blank sheets of parchment and a quill. The drawers are so cheap they don’t slide open smoothly, and he hears another loud huff of annoyance as Liam is interrupted by the rattling as Zayn jerks them open.  

He can’t stop moving, but he refuses to think about why he’s nervous about suggesting the scavenger hunt.

No – nervous is the wrong word, he’s definitely not _nervous_ about explaining his idea to Liam, that would imply that he cared about what Liam thinks of it, that he valued Liam’s opinions.

And he doesn’t, he thinks as he tests out the quill sitting on the desk – it doesn’t even work, it’s dry; shitty, just like everything in the room – it really doesn’t matter to him if Liam thinks that his idea is good or not.

And it is good, Zayn knows it is. But he still-

It’s just that it would be nice to avoid another argument, that’s all. That’s what it is: apprehension, he doesn’t want to get into another fight. They have so much work to do. Of course. It’s not because he wants Liam to like his idea or appreciate his contributions.

When Liam finishes, he looks defensive, as if expecting Zayn to disagree immediately.

Zayn takes a breath, forcing his gaze away from all the other places in the room and to Liam’s face.

“So what my group were thinking, was to have something a bit more fun,” he begins, and briefly describes his own plans to Liam, emphasizing that if the first years are entertained, they’ll be much more involved.

Liam looks extremely unimpressed, and his facial expression becomes less and less receptive as Zayn continues.

Typical, he thinks. Liam’s insecure about anyone other than him having good ideas. And Zayn knows this idea works well - he has the confirmation of twelve other people, for Merlin’s sake. Zayn just needs to not back down, and convince Liam that he’s right this time.

So when the first words out of Liam’s mouth after Zayn finishes his explanation are, “I don’t think,” Zayn doesn’t think about his words. He talks right over Liam, a rush of frustration replacing his earlier insecurities and the twinge of disappointment he’d felt to Liam’s negative reaction.

“Look, Liam, it’s not like you’re some expert on this, we both have the same amount of experience here. You were the one who grabbed onto those stupid pieces of parchment because you were floundering with no adults to tell you what to do.”

Liam’s glare is probably stronger than a _stupify_ jinx, but Zayn’s so frustrated that it has no effect on him. “It was even you that came up with the games we played at the meeting, we didn’t even need those stupid papers. Doesn’t that show that we could do some of our own things?”

“Well look who’s talking Zayn, I didn’t see you talking to Cowell or working in the library either, or making much of an effort aside from this one apparently brilliant idea, what do you know about it? D’you think the Heads would have continued with similar things if it wasn’t working?”

“I listened to your whole speech,” Zayn says, “and you won’t even consider mine? You can’t be that blind, you have to agree that your idea is bloody boring, you just don’t want to admit it. Just because the Prefects have done it that way before doesn’t mean that’s the only way to do it. D’you remember what you learned from the Prefects in our first year? I don’t,” and he can tell that that point hits home for Liam, but he’s trying not to show it, “I just remember being worried that I’d gotten past the magical part of Hogwarts and that the rest of it would be as dull as that day.”

Liam meets his gaze, as if he’s thrown down the ultimate challenge. “You’re so convinced that anything you do is perfect. You didn’t even let me share my opinion.”

“Well I asked my Prefects, seeing as they’re more likely to give me an honest answer,” Zayn tosses back hotly. “Funny how you’re constantly going on about me asking your opinion when you aren’t doing the same, you didn’t ask me when you got all those ancient documents on your own _and then_ wouldn’t even explain to me what you were doing.”

By now, it’s as if Liam has determined to roll his eyes at anything he says before the words are finished coming out of his mouth. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms, turning his head as if he can’t even bear to look at Zayn.

D’you know what? Fine.” Zayn says. “Why do I always have to be the one who actually allows us to get any work done? It’s like I’m either a stack of useless bricks you have to drag around this year, or when I do any work at all I’m some egomaniac on a power trip, I can’t win.” He’s utterly done with Liam. “I _would_ just go ahead and plan my own event without your input, but instead I’ll ask. Because we’re supposed to be working together. So here, sunshine: do you think the scavenger hunt will work, or do you want to force some young kids - who’re probably already stressed enough – to sit through another boring day? Your choice.”

Liam’s frowning directly at him now, and Zayn can’t resist his final point. “I won’t write those boring speeches though, that’ll be up to you.”

“Merlin, Zayn, you’re so immature,” Liam sighs, scrubbing his face with his hands. He’s pushed up the white sleeves of his shirt and looks exhausted. “Whatever, I don’t really care.”

Zayn feels a thrill, because that little admission – that’s Liam saying he’ll go along with Zayn’s idea. But he can’t let it go yet. “I’m not going to do it unless you admit that it will work better - I’m not having you say you thought it was a terrible idea after we’ve done a ton of work on it.”

Liam pauses mulishly for a minute. Then, begrudgingly, he mumbles, “I think it’ll work.”

Knowing that’s the only approval he’s going to get, Zayn allows himself to gloat for a brief second; Liam hadn’t even put up much of a fight. “It will work.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Liam says indifferently, but Zayn knows Liam would never stop fighting for his own idea unless he truly thought Zayn’s was better.

After a moment of hesitation, Zayn sits down in the second chair at the desk. Liam’s ego is probably feeling a bit bruised but at least he’d backed down, but he pushes away the bit of sympathy he has for Liam. It’s not like Liam deserves it, or anything from him really. And how Liam feels is irrelevant it’s not like they’re friends; wasn’t their goal just to figure things out so they could get out of each other’s company as soon as possible?

Now that they’ve somehow reached a tentative agreement, it feels awkward. Silence reigns.

How do they interact when they’re not disagreeing, and there’s no audience to force them to behave?

Zayn reminds himself that he can do this. Just pretend nothing’s wrong, and keep going. He’s been a snarky arsehole to Liam before, he just needs to draw on that again.

Luckily, it seems like Liam has gotten the same idea, because once they’ve established what needs to be done, he immediately begins planning ideas as if Zayn isn’t there. It feels like their argument in the library all over again, but at least they’re moving forward, and he throws in his own opinions forcefully enough that Liam simply gives him a harsh look before writing them down.

Somehow, they manage to go a solid fifteen minutes without fighting, coming up with a rough list of the major tasks they need to complete. There’s tension, but it’s like they’re continually pulled together by the thin thread that is their mutual desire to do well as Heads of House. It’s the only thing keeping them from letting things utterly fall apart, although at times they come close to breaking.

Liam is taking notes on a sheet of parchment as they discuss the main expenses and schedule for the day, and Zayn leans forward to see what he’s written. He can’t suppress a sound of disdain as he sees Liam’s messy writing, and Liam looks over.

“What.”

Nope, Zayn won’t say anything. He has three sisters, he knows exactly how this will play out if he comments.

Liam looks back down at his paper, and realizes what Zayn was reacting to. His eyebrows furrow in frustration and he pushes himself back from the desk.

“Fine then, d’you want to write?”

“Nah, m’good.”

Liam wisely chooses to accept these words, but as he leans forward again to continue writing, his sleeve brushes over a second sheet of parchment Zayn had been taking notes on. The ink is still wet and it creates a long black smear along the parchment.

Zayn lets out a huff of annoyance, tugging his now smudged sheet out from under Liam’s elbow. The sharp words come out of his mouth without a thought. “Be more careful with your scrawling babe, some of us manage to do things neatly, I don’t need you over here messing them up.”

He doesn’t know why he can’t resist seeing the anger bloom into a pink flush on Liam’s cheeks at the comment, but it’s such an easy way to get a reaction from him. And perhaps making Liam angry is the only way to ensure that Zayn can’t get closer to him.

“Merlin,” Liam mutters under his breath, running a (clean) hand frustratedly through his hair. He looks up at Zayn and doesn’t voice the rest of the sentiment, but it’s so resoundingly obvious what he’s thinking when their eyes meet that Zayn’s surprised the words haven’t written themselves out in the air in front of him.

_I can’t believe I ever slept with you._

And Zayn knows that Liam is thinking this, because it’s exactly what he’s thinking himself. It’s been a subtext on both sides, the undertone to every harsh word that has been exchanged between them since the first night.

He hasn’t quite wanted to confront the thought directly, but there it is. Because it’s bad enough that he’s working with this conceited arsehole, but even worse that he’d ever been – and still, unfortunately, is – attracted to him.

No matter how much he and Liam dislike each other, they can’t forget it. Why, he wants to scream, can’t they just let it go? But neither of them can when they’re being forced, again and again, to interact with each other, every time Zayn looks at Liam it renews the memories; they won’t fade away with time like he wishes they just would until they’re both gone from Hogwarts and don’t have to face each other.

The past two weeks have been non-stop work, punctuated by horrible moments with Liam, and he can’t do it anymore in the moment. And although he’s managed to sit through their other disagreements, he’s so fed up with the effort it takes to interact with Liam that he can’t do it this time.

He’s not even angry at Liam so much as their entire situation, it’s all just so complicated and stressful and nothing is working and he hates it. He stands up.

“I’ll do the first half of the list, you take the second half,” he tells Liam, grabbing his own piece of parchment that carries a copy of the seventeen major tasks they’d miraculously worked out, as well as his own scribbled notes.

It’s like they’re stuck in a rut of disagreements, which doesn’t seem like a good omen for the year, but Zayn doesn’t know how to get out of it; they both annoy each other too much.

He doesn’t look back into the room as he heads out into the Hallway, seeking out the comfort of the Slytherin common room. 

* 

“You’re in a great mood today,” Harry remarks flippantly from over his mug of tea at the breakfast table. He watches a disgruntled third year Slytherin move down to the far end of their breakfast table in the Great Hall, away from Zayn, then looks back at Zayn pointedly.

Zayn sighs.

He’s just spent the past half hour being interviewed by the boy for some sort of underground Hogwarts newspaper that he’s never heard of. It should have been fun, but he’d been unable to muster the same enthusiasm he’d had three days earlier when he’d agreed to the interview about being a Head of House.

He’d wanted to be charming and funny, but every question had in some way related to Liam, what with the fact that they were meant to be working together and ‘sharing a vision for the school’ etcetera. The reminder of the awful end to their meeting yesterday had sent his cheery mood into a tailspin within five minutes of the interview starting.

And, well, his intentions have a habit of becoming derailed when it comes to Liam anyway.

He’ll have to make it up to the boy somehow, maybe give him more information on the scavenger hunt or just do another interview when he can get himself together and not let Liam affect him so much.

But for now Zayn’s content to sit at the table re-reading the essay he’d finished last night for muggle studies. All he needs to do is double checking for errors he can fix before he hands it in in class. And try not to think about how awful it is to feel like he’s not on speaking terms with Liam, even when they’d gone the past week without speaking outside of the mandatory meetings.

Except.

“So, what’s got you in a mood, hmm?” Harry asks, “or let me guess – is it a who?”

And of course Harry would be able to tell exactly what Zayn was thinking. It had probably been obvious the night before when Zayn had stepped into the common room with what he was sure was a frown on his face, but Harry hadn’t asked him anything then. They have an unspoken rule that if an issue lasts overnight though, that’s when it’s time to discuss it. So here Harry is putting that into action.

Somehow, Harry manages to coax out the reason for his mood, some of which Zayn hadn’t even realized until the words had come spilling out of his mouth. Namely, _Liam and I fought yesterday and I don’t know if we’re on speaking terms again, and we have so much to do but we can’t even work together,_ and also _if we end up in a massive row, and the Prefects are going to end up with another shitty year of doing all the work themselves,_ and _if_ Cowell _finds out we may both lose our positions._

And that’s how he finds himself walking, against his strongest instincts, across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table. Because Harry is nothing if not direct when it comes to making Zayn confront the things he doesn’t want to.

So – he’s going to talk to Liam. Kill two birds with one stone and all that; make sure that their fight is at least resolved to the extent that they can _disagree_ with each other rather than _not talk, -_ because right now _not talking_ equates to not accomplishing anything as Heads of House -  and secondly, it’ll show anyone watching (probably fewer people than he thinks) that things are perfectly fine between him and Liam.

A lie, but still.

Harry, ever the consummate actor, pastes on what seems to be a genuine grin as the approach the table, and Zayn finds himself smiling as well, albeit less brightly. There is a brief change in the noisy chatter of the Gryffindor table as they walk up to the far end of the Gryffindor table where Liam and a blond haired Hufflepuff are sitting, with Louis on the other side of the bench.

Louis notices them first, pausing mid-sentence as he glances first at Zayn, then at Harry, but he keeps his face neutral. Liam, when he turns towards them, makes less of an effort, his eyebrows rising in confusion.

“Hi, Zayn?” Liam seems almost wary as Zayn looks down on where he’s sitting at the Gryffindor breakfast table. His uncertainty is unexpected, but at least it’s a nice change from the usual glare that adorns his face whenever Zayn’s in the vicinity.

“Can we sit?” Zayn gestures at the table and tries to smile. He moves to take the bench next to Louis but Harry slides in his way, blocking him.

Somehow, Harry manages to make space for himself on the bench next to Louis. How, Zayn can’t imagine, as Louis doesn’t seem the type to move for an overbearing stranger, but regardless, he now finds himself standing somewhat awkwardly in front of Liam. Harry gives him a cheeky grin as Zayn glowers.

Liam raises an eyebrow, and doesn’t seem to be about to make any room for him, but then Niall stands abruptly.

“Forgot me things in the common room, I’ve gotta get them before classes, see y’around Li.” He pats Liam briefly on the back before walking quickly away.

Liam glances a little helplessly around at how obviously Niall has abandoned him. If there was any doubt that he’s leaving because of Zayn, it disappears as Niall waves pointedly to Louis, and then walks away without looking at Harry or Zayn once.

So, Liam’s best friend hates him too. What a wonderful confirmation. He didn’t even know Hufflepuffs could be that savage.

Reluctantly, Liam slides over on the bench, and Zayn is able to find space to perch just as reluctantly on the very end of it.

He wants people to think that they’re friends, sure, but it’s really not absolutely _necessary_ for them to sit next to each other – he and Harry have sat across from each other plenty of times, for example.

And squeezing in thigh to thigh next to Harry definitely doesn’t create this extreme level of awareness in Zayn. He’s tense, hyper-aware of every inch of skin that touches Liam’s, even though they’re both of course wearing trousers.

There’s an awkward pause as they sit uncomfortably close to each other, the presence of Liam all along his left side making Zayn tense, reluctant to move in case he accidentally breaches the small barrier of space between them.

Across from him, Harry is politely introducing himself, smiling charmingly despite a frosty reception from Louis.

“Hello, ‘m Harry, Zayn’s friend.”

He offers a hand, and Louis looks less than impressed, but takes the hand anyway.

“Okay then,” comes Liam’s voice to Zayn’s left, but when he turns, Liam isn’t looking at him. “What’s this about? Did something happen?”

Zayn shakes his head, realizing belatedly that Liam probably won’t notice, but then Harry jumps in, having obviously heard him.

“Zayn here thinks that the Prefects don’t trust you yet, is that true, Louis?”

And alarm bells go off in Zayn’s head at the way that Harry’s approached it –  first off, because Harry cannot seriously be flirting with Louis… can he? He wouldn’t do that to Zayn.  But there’s no mistaking the exaggerated cadence of his voice, a Styles signature when it comes to men, and which Zayn has had plenty of time to familiarize himself with over the years.

And secondly, this will _not_ go over well with Liam.

“Don’t trus- what?” Liam asks, turning toward Zayn. “Of course they trust us, we’re the Head Boys!”

And Harry just had to barrel into it to impress Louis didn’t he. Zayn would have preferred to introduce it a bit more softly, since it now occurs to him that that’s why Liam’s been a bit wary – he’s unsure what Zayn’s intentions are after yesterday - but he’ll just have to make do.

“You’re being too Gryffindor about it, of course they don’t trust us yet. They say they do, but just because we’re Head Boys doesn’t mean – look where that got them last year. We have to _show_ them.”

Zayn watches as Liam’s face flickers through surprise first, then comprehension as he obviously thinks back to their meeting the day before. It finally settles into something with no trace of warmth. Zayn hates it.

“And that’s what you were doing yesterday? And why you’re over here at breakfast, _pretending?”_ His gaze is ice. “And of course you dragged your friend along to act with you, and you aren’t even going to apologize for yesterday. Typical.”

How does Liam always manage to make him feel like shit with just a few words, he wonders. All of his actions seem to have a magnified effect on Zayn’s emotions, when he shouldn’t be affected at all.

“So all this is just to pretend that we’re friends? Just fake it in front of everyone?”

Louis looks over at the slightly aggressive tone of Liam’s voice, tilting his head questioningly towards Liam.

Liam is looking around, as if becoming aware that they’re in the Hall again. “Nah it’s fine,” he says to Louis. “Zayn just being a wanker again. As usual. ”

They exchange a significant look and Zayn knows he’s missed something, but he can’t tell what it’s about, aside from how irritatingly obvious it is that they’ve been talking about him.

Harry winces and gives him a sympathetic look from across the table. It’s not like Zayn had assumed any differently; he’d spent quite a few evenings grumbling about Liam to Harry, but it still hurts to have it so bluntly shoved in his face.

Louis returns his attention to Harry, and Zayn continues.

“Well faking isn’t the word I’d use-”

He tries to keep his voice down so Louis doesn’t overhear, but he seems entirely focused on Harry again, gesturing widely with his hands. Challenging him, it looks like, going by the jut of his jaw and Harry’s laughter.

“Seems pretty much like faking to me.” But Liam seems to have lost the edge in his voice, it’s more like he’s questioning it, considering the situation a bit less emotionally now that Louis has made him aware of their interaction.

“Liam, I’m sorry,” Zayn tries. And Liam’s right, he had been the one to walk out yesterday, and for that at least, he was the one at fault. Liam has a right to be angry. “I didn’t plan it ahead of time or anything, I just saw how on edge the Prefects were about the previous Heads not fulfilling their duties. And we’re not letting that happen” (he thinks he hears Liam mumble something that sounds like ‘well I’m not’) “we’ve figured out how to work around it, but I didn’t think it would make them more confident in us-“

When will Liam come to understand that not everything is a choice between absolute wrong and right? Zayn isn’t sure how to explain himself – there’s nothing he can say that will make him sound less manipulative now that that’s how Liam sees it, but that really hadn’t been his intent.

Zayn sighs. “Just … can’t you see that it’s easier? It’s not like there are rules against it, and _we_ both don’t know we aren’t getting along; I think that would be the real pretending.”

“Always the Slytherin, aren’t you,” Liam says.

Zayn pauses, trying to figure out if he’s been insulted or not, because Liam’s voice lacks the expected malice.

Liam rolls his eyes at Zayn’s reaction. “What, do you expect me to throw a fit in the middle of the Hall? Anyways, you apologized, so I’d have to be even more of an arsehole than you think I am to ignore that. Especially when you’ve just pointed out that it’ll be useful for the Prefects. And,” he laughs, but there isn’t much humor in it, “it’ll probably make us hate each other less anyway. I’m sure things will go better if you’re less huffy about stuff as well,” he adds, with a pointed look.

Well. Again, Liam’s acquiescence unsettles Zayn. He’s not sure what to think, and just like the day before, he pushes down a tiny surge of doubt that wonders if he’s the one with skewed negative expectations of Liam.

“So,” Liam starts, “if we’re pretending to be friends, I guess we should figure out where we’re oh- I forgot,” he breaks off, “Louis, mate, do you know anything else about the office? Didn’t seem like much when we were in it yesterday.”

Liam forward, over the table towards Louis as he asks the question, and Zayn tries not to think about how that movement makes his leg brush against Zayn’s. He can feel the heat that Liam’s light touch leaves behind, and Zayn take a step back and think rationally, reminding himself of why he hates Liam (why, exactly, does he hate him again?), but he finds himself admiring the way Liam had moved on from what had almost been another one of their signature fights. It’s… mature in a way that none of their previous interactions have been. In a way that he admires. No – no. He doesn’t admire - ugh.

It takes Louis an unexpectedly long time to drag his eyes away from Harry, during which Zayn hopes it isn’t obvious to Liam that his breathing has suddenly become a lot more shallow. He’s way past being a hormonal pre-teen, yet the smallest thing from Liam manages to stir up too many feelings.

It’s like Liam makes him volatile, flipping irrationally from one emotion to the next – likely by tomorrow he’ll be back to hating him again. Although he should be thankful for that, at least; he almost wants Liam to be petty, because it makes it easier to dislike him, which is what he needs. Although, in this moment, he’s finding it hard to remember his reasons for that, again.

“’M not sure about the Head’s Office to be honest,” Louis finally says, “I haven’t been in it, obviously. I know Nira and Rose spent a lot of time there, so I assumed it was nicer than the classrooms, I mean our Prefect’s bathroom are, so it makes sense. Estee was a Head Girl the first year I was a Prefect and she always used to boast about the plush carpets it had, but Nira said there was a rug once I think, maybe it changes every year or something, I dunno.”

Oh. That’s a bit disappointing, Zayn thinks, that he and Liam are stuck with whatever awful random iteration the office feels like. But that seems to be the theme of this year so far, so he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised.

Zayn only spends a minute more at the table before he stands up, citing his classes as an excuse to leave. Any of the other Prefects who are in the Great Hall will likely have noticed he and Liam sitting together, which is good enough at this point, although they should probably make more of an effort sometime soon. But for now, they have a somewhat more solid plan of how to work together, even if it only involves pretending they’re getting along, which should help.

So there really isn’t much point in staying with Liam when he doesn’t have to.

He’s not sure if he imagines the mask of relief on Liam’s face when he gets up, but  it’s soon hidden. Perhaps this conversation wasn’t as easy for him as it had seemed, either.

Zayn half expects Harry to stand up and join him, but he stays sitting, not noticing the look Zayn gives him. He seems perfectly content to stay with Louis at the table.

But that’s fine, Harry can have some fun with Louis if he wants, even if Louis _is_ a Gryffindor and friends with Liam.

Surprisingly, Zayn isn’t really bothered by it. Now, for some reason, he seems to be in a better mood, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.  He doesn’t want to think about why. 


End file.
